House on the Hill

Abandoned house on the hill.
Rooms once filled with light and love.
Now sit empty and forgotten.
Screen doors slammed by wind.
Barely held on by hinges.
Broken glass reflect shards of hope.
Sitting on the horizon.
Just out of reach.
Wingspan fails.
Light shimmers deflecting off water.
Leaked through shingles.
Of a damaged roof.
Withered wall memories.
Burdened by decay.
Cobweb, dust covered furniture.
Flooded basement drowning dreams.

Old oak tree.
Stands alone with a hundred rings.
Dead leaf carpet.
Swaying in the wind.
With withered limbs.
Rope noose tied.
Tire swing.

I am the abandoned house.
You are the oak tree.
My horizon.
Grazed by fingertips.
Still out of reach.
The words on the tip of a tongue.
Never to form a sentence.
So bad.
I've wanted to trade places with the tire.
Hang from your arms.
You are the death of me.